The Beginning of the End
by MadMelodie
Summary: Like so many others, a fic of the first Hunger Games. May be updated sporadically. Warning for explicit violence-this is NOT a PG version.


The smoke from the north made the sunrise shine with colors almost unheard of, but it hurt. It hurt my eyes, and it hurt my heart. Everyone in line shuffled to a stop, looking over the tops of the trees at the sunrise, at the purples and reds and golds all mixed together, then, invariably, their eyes turned north. Visually, it's stunning. I've never seen anything like this, not in all of my sixteen years. District 12 seemed to be covered in coal dust. It's rare to see anything shine like the sky that morning. It hurt, though. It hurt my heart because I know that sunrise and that smoke meant that District 13 is no more.

We had seen the skycraft the day before, or rather, our families outside had. Us miners had been working in the mines as usual. It paid better than almost anything else in the District, but that's only because there wasn't many other jobs to be had for unskilled labor. Years ago the Capitol had decreed that each District would be responsible for one thing, and one thing only, and District 12's was energy, or rather fossil fuels. It seemed... stupid, to me. There were other ways to get energy, cheaper and cleaner ways like solar or wind, even nuclear. All we had here was coal and trees. Trees, at least, were renewable, and I would have much rather been a lumberjack. It looked to be more fun, anyway, but the forests which were chopped down for paper and wood were not here. Our trees were just as good. Why such a stupid division of labor?

All it meant was that each District was dependant upon the other, and more importantly, the Capital to distribute goods as they saw fit. That decree was when the rumblings started. Those rumblings led to riots. Those riots led to war. Now, that war was lost. What would this mean? Would this District system be kept in place? Why divide the country like that? It made no sense to me. Although, to be fair, upon further reflection coal was used in steel and other material production too, so it might not have just been for energy. That was merely the most obvious use.

Chris, from behind, nudged me, and I started forward again. "Just keep your head down, and ignore it," he said. "It has nothing to do with us."

"It has everything to do with us," I said, my voice sounding like a little girl lost. I hated that I was so soft spoken, with a slurred accent. My family, they were from around these parts and had been for decades, maybe even hundreds of years. We had that twang in our voices, which indicated we were from the Seam originally, not imported in like so many other workers and families. 'To each their abilities,' the Capitol said. All of our educated citizens, our higher educated citizens, had been shipped out to other Districts, according to their specializations. In one fell swoop, the President had reduced us to miners and grunt laborers.

"Just ignore it, and keep moving," he urged me. I listened to him, though I sighed. Chris was a supervisor in the mines, and he looked out for me. Since I couldn't finish school-we had no teachers, so how could I?-and wasn't married, I went to work in the mines with many of the other girls and boys from my now abolished school. We worked hard, all of us, but Chris was my cousin on my mother's side, and he made sure the other miners didn't hassle me too much.

"Things aren't going to get better, you know," I told him, mostly under my breath. I saw out of the corner of my eye his head bob in agreement. "Revolution's over, and you don't think the Capitol is going to let us forget it? Never. We supplied power and men... soldiers," I amended, thinking of my mother who had come back to us not quite right in the head anymore, "to them. Just because we didn't instigate it, doesn't mean we're not going to get punished." How could it be any worse though, really? Oppression lay thick in the air, and we were a beaten people, meekly putting down our heads in surrender.

"They'll put down some new laws, and things will pass," Chris whispered back to me. I didn't know why we were keeping our voices low. Out of respect, maybe. "Things will go back to normal."

"But that's..." I started, then shook my head. "Never mind." Normal wasn't what we wanted, but he was right, and it was our turn to ride the elevator down in the mineshaft. I stepped onto the solid wood and my cousin entered with me. We both had our hard hats on, complete with a headlight, and heavy overalls. It got hot down there, but the overalls protected you from a lot of bumps and scrapes, especially me. It was part of my job to check out the smaller fissures, to search for stress cracks, to tell if a shaft was safe or not. Canary Cait, they called me, shortening my given name of Caitlyn. At least they didn't call me Cat. I hated that.

He and I looked alike even. We both took after my grandmother, who had the dark Spanish hair, and muddy hazel eyes. Our skin was olive in color, probably more Mediterranean than anything else, and our features apparently thin, almost aquiline. His nose was crooked though, a result from a fight when he was my age, while mine was straight. His hair was curly while mine was straight, though we both kept it cut short, the better to fit under the helmets. We could have been siblings, we looked so much alike.

The mine held no terror for me, though I knew it did some of the other boys and girls my age. The feeling of being enclosed made me feel safe. Besides, I knew enough about the mine to know that if it collapsed, I would pretty much be dead instantly and not feel a thing. There had been accidents before, and safety was the priority issue of the workers here. We worked in shifts around the clock. Chris and I both worked the day shift. Mother was usually out and about, going about whatever tasks she thought important that day. The townsfolk kept a collective eye on her, as best they could. My father... well, he had been a teacher, and he was gone. I think he was in District Four now, working on electronics. Mother had gone to war to get him back more than anything else. No communication was allowed, though Old Man Smitty up on the hill had a shortwave radio, which he would get signals on from time to time. In that way, we had gotten news of the war, and the terrible battles which had been fought for our freedom.

My day passed smoothly, almost without me noticing. It was a different world in the mines, noisy but soothing to me. This was my family down here, and it had been for the past year. I had learned a lot, not just about engineering and geology-both of which were vital for my role-but about people, too. About being a grown up, and making the hard decisions. I made the decisions for my family now, such as it was. With no medicine coming in from the Capitol, the twins had died two years ago from an illness, leaving me an only child. With Father being gone, and Mother being what she was, I was the only one left to remember us the way things used to be. Rafaela, Chris' mom, tried to help out with her sister, but she had a brood of children to take care of too. I had to step up, because no one else would.

Chris and I stepped out of the elevator and into the light, letting the next bunch enter to descend. I couldn't help but to look to the north again, noting that the smoke had cleared. "I wonder if Smitty's heard anything." We must have been going to work right after the bombs. What was left over there, if anything?

He could only shake his head in response. "Just ignore it," he said for about the thousandth time today. "It won't do anyone any good getting involved. It's over."

"I better find Mother and head home anyway," I said.

"Caitlyn," he started, then stopped and frowned. "If they come here, and I do mean if, you know they'll be looking for people who fought."

"She's harmless now," I said. "Anyone can see it." I patted him on the shoulder, and gave him a forced smile. "Besides, you said keep your head down and ignore it, so I will." When he returned the smile, I left. Maybe he was right. After they had excised people, we were no real threat to anyone. No thinkers left among us, and likely no more dissidents. Only a handful had come back; most had died in the failed revolution.

I wandered back slowly from the mines, heading down the dirt road the the town proper. I liked this time here, to myself. It was quiet. Only my footsteps and the steps of the other miners heading home surrounded me. Sometimes there was a bit of conversation, but usually everyone was too tired to talk much. We didn't have much food, and what we did have had to be shared with kin. Thankfully, it was the summer yet, so we could go hunting in the woods, or gather wild plants. Some people raised vegetables, and guarded them fiercely. Same with any livestock in the area which were left. Once we had raised our arms in revolt, the Capitol had shut down the food lines. Though the separation of the Districts still seemed idiotically stupid to me, I supposed it would make it easier to stop a revolt. If people couldn't fend for themselves, they'd starve. Hungry people made for humble subjects. We got by. We were still getting by, but it wasn't easy.

The other Districts had helped. During the revolution, supply lines crisscrossed the nation, sending supplies where they were needed, both to the soldiers, and to the civilians. Many people here were armed due to trade with District 2, and they used those arms to protect themselves and provide for their families both. They would not give up their firearms without a fight. It would be wiser to hide them, but who knew what would happen when the Capitol arrived to enforce their laws once more?

I entered the town proper, and found my mother waiting for me. She smiled wanly at me, and I returned it. "How was your day today?" she asked, sounding perfectly normal, as if I had been at school.

"It was okay," I said, stepping into her embrace and hugging her. When I stepped back, I looked into her eyes and searched for any signs of stress or anxiety. "How are you feeling today?"

"I feel good," she said, taking off her knapsack and rummaging through it. "I traded some bullets for supper."

"Mother," I said, a note of exasperation creeping into my voice. "We should just go hunting with those, you know. You know how to fire a weapon." She had been a crack marksman. "It would make things a lot easier."

"I don't like having it in the house," she said, pulling out a loaf of bread, and tearing off a piece for me to chew on. "I've got a big black sausage too, at home. We can make sandwiches. It'll keep for days."

"We could just go hunting," I insisted as we started the journey home. "You could show me how to fire it. I'm old enough." I'm working enough, I thought grumpily to myself. I've earned the right.

She shook her head adamantly. "No. I don't want you … I don't want you doing … that," she said, stumbling over the worlds a little. When she was lucid like this, we argued. She didn't want me anywhere close to a weapon or a fight. I said it was too late, and we would be off. I didn't feel like it today, so I dropped it. "You know how I feel about it," she finished, looking at me with her too dark eyes. They were light brown, but shadowed all the same.

I smiled, as brightly as I could, "Let's just go home, Mother. We'll make something to eat and read a little." When she relaxed, I let my smile go, and faced forward again. I picked up my pace, just wanting to be off the streets. It felt as though there were too many people about, clustered about in threes and fours, all whispering. I knew they weren't whispering about Mother or I, though she had been a subject to gossip many times over, but rather what was going to happen now that the revolution was over. Maybe after I got Mother settled in, I would go up to Old Man Smitty and see if he had heard anything on his radio. I doubted I would though. I was tired, and there was food to be had. Food, reading, and then bed sounded too good.

When we arrived home, I sat down on a chair hard, and my mother bustled over to the kitchen area. Our house was small for five, but a good size for two. We each had our own bedroom, small though they were, and the main room served as a kitchen and living room both. A cast iron stove dominated the kitchen, and cabinets ringed around the walls, surrounding the small kitchen table where my mother did most of the food prep. The living room was sparsely furnished. Almost all of the furniture had either gone for wood when we were desperate or for trade. All that remained was my father's old chair which I used now, and my mother's rocking chair, which had been her mother's before her. Each of our bedrooms had a bed, a nightstand, and a chest to store our clothes in. We didn't have much in the way of other belongings, save for a few oil lamps. The house was wired for electricity, of course, but we hadn't had power here for at least the last couple of years. We made do without it, hearkening back to the frontier days of Old America. The outhouse stood outside, of course, about ten yards from the house. I made sure I kept the path clear of ice and snow during the winter. We had bedpans to use for when it was just too cold or miserable to go outside.

I pulled my boots off and took them outside to brush off the dirt from the day. I should have stopped earlier and done that, but Mother wasn't so picky anymore. I brushed as much off as I could from them and my clothes, then went back inside and helped her prepare our meal. She hadn't been lying about the sausage. It was one of those big, black ones that was salted well and would keep forever if stored properly. We had some bread, and I went and pulled us some water from our pump outside to go with it. We both ate two huge sandwiches, splurging a little, and sat basking in the feeling of being full.

The town siren went off, prodding us from our food-induced reverie. "Meeting, most like," I said. "Probably about 13."

"You go, Caitlyn," Mother said. "I'm not feeling up to it."

I looked her over. She seemed fine to me, and I thought that she probably didn't want to move after having a hard day of doing nothing and then eating. It was an unfair thought though, and I nodded. "I'm sure it won't take long," I said. "How could it? It's just going to be the news that the Revolution is over. Two whole seconds." The siren cut off short as I said that, making my words right: it was a town meeting. If it were a storm or other hazard, the siren would have been continuous. They really needed a better system, but the town worked with what it had.

I put my boots back on, laced them up, and stopped at the door. My mother sat in her rocking chair, looking at father's chair with lidded eyes. She seemed almost asleep, so I moved over to her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "I love you, Mom," I said.

"Love you too, my dear," she replied, only half rousing. I couldn't blame her. She stayed in a state of perpetual alertness, waiting for the next ambush which would never come. It must have been exhausting for her, and that was her good days. On the other days, a noise... a smell... something would bring her back to the front, and she would hide wherever she was, curled up in a ball. It would take a lot of coaxing to get her back home, but what could I do? Family tried to look after her, but I had to work...

I frowned to myself as I left and walked to the town square. I worked, and had for a year or so now, but the money it got me didn't buy much. It was a mish mash of old and new coins, our currency caught between the country that was and the country it was trying to be. However, without 13 now, and supplies coming in from them and other districts, it would soon all be worthless. Trade had flowed through the districts, but once Panem bombed the major rails, it had all been dependant on hovercraft... and it was expensive to ship that way. One thing I would say about the end of the Revolution, it would probably mean an end to the hunger which was plaguing District 12, and a return to order. Not a good order, but order nevertheless.

I arrived in the town square with hundreds of other people. We waited as more shuffled in, and finally, maybe a half hour or so later, the mayor of the town stepped up. He was flanked by two very official looking soldiers in white armor, so pure and clean, contrasting the lot of us. "The Revolution is officially over," he announced, to the surprise of no one at all here. We had all known what the smoke from the north meant. "District 13 is no more."

That was shocking, and it sent a ripple of whispers through the crowd. Mayor Hunt raised his hands for silence, and when we quieted down, he continued, "The country of Panem is once again whole. The rails will be repaired. There is a sign up sheet for those wishing to volunteer for extra rations, which will be shipped this week to begin trade again with the Capitol." Another murmur went through the crowd, this time more excited even though we were under an oppressive thumb. Order, even totalitarian order sometimes, is preferable to the uncertainty of anarchy. "Peacekeepers will be arriving shortly, to take an official census and set up a center of communication between us and the Capitol. Production from the mine will continue as normal..." He stopped here, and licked his lips. I could tell nothing from the Peacekeepers next to him, but the Mayor looked nervous, or unhappy. "This is the only operational mine in District 12. The firebombings in our District have ignited several coal veins, and collapsed the Pennsatucky mine." A loud murmur rippled through the crowd, and he waited patiently for us to be quiet. "For right now, we are the only source of coal in the district." Another pause, and he added, "Those who are left from the other communities in the district will be moving here, within the week."

I bit my lip at that. Food was already scarce, and even with trade being opened with the Capitol, and presumably other districts, again, an influx of people would make it nearly impossible to feed everyone. At least it would for right now. I could only hope that the trade incoming would be substantial, or that Mother had more than a handful of bullets and her gun squirreled away for trading. The Mayor finished saying that a communal television would be put into place at the courthouse, which I thought was an odd place for it, and that electricity would soon be restored to the district. I didn't care about that so much; I was used to the oil lamps, and we didn't use much oil right now anyway, since the long days of summer were upon us.

After the meeting was over, I walked back to my house slowly, thinking things over. It didn't seem so bad. They were making improvements, and bringing food. Even so, my unease would not go away. It seemed to me that it was the carrot before the stick.


End file.
